Eliza's His Wife
by ecol
Summary: Two years have passed since a winter's ball. Elizabeth and Alexander are finally courted with their future on their minds. With their lives stretched out before them, and a wedding fast-approaching, everything must be perfect. Or is it? Third and final installment to the Helpless Trilogy.
1. Part 1: Eliza

_Eliza_

Two years have passed since a winter's ball. It's early November; a chill has already began to set upon Albany.

Today I am at my parents' home, washing heavy winter curtains. My mother and Angelica are beside me, running the curtains through the freezing water.

"How's Alexander, Elizabeth?" My mother stops running her hands through the curtains for a moment.

I pause to think for a moment. I haven't thought about Alexander for a couple of weeks. He is stationed in Manhattan, and we haven't had much time to talk. "I would assume he's okay. General Washington has him posted in the city. Why?"

"Just curious, my dear." She doesn't say anything else besides the occasional criticism or light-hearted joke.

Angelica and I are in heavy, simple gowns. We wear petticoats that create warmth so that we don't feel the chill. Lately, I haven't been feeling like myself. It could be the November rain, or it could be my own mind folding in on itself. My family members begin to abandon our project-claiming that letting the curtains soke will reap better results-so I finish up, drying my hands on my apron. I take my bonnet off. My hair falls around my shoulders as I shake it out of my bun. Angelica doesn't say much to me anymore except for the occasional good morning or how are you. It makes me sad, as 18 months ago she would sit in my room and talk of my sweet Alexander, of whom I have become obsessed.

I shouldn't say _obsessed_ ; but the boy does something to me that others cannot. At this point, I believe that I have found my soulmate. Whether or not we are to be married, however, is an entirely different issue. He needs my father's blessing, my mother's approval, my sisters' okay, et cetera, et cetera. Essentially, Colonel Hamilton must complete the Tasks of Hercules to become my husband. In some ways, I benefit from this. In others, I am completely left in the dust.

Angelica looks at me for a moment, a reddish color invading her cheeks. She mutters something to herself, then goes to leave.

"What did you say, Angelica?" I call, only slightly condescending. I know something is wrong.

"Nothing, Elizabeth," she continues to walk away, not bothering to explain herself. I sigh to myself and walk upstairs to my bedroom.

On my desk sits at least twenty letters from Alexander. On most of them he took careful time with his words, and in others he scribbles and scrabbles and I can barely read his words. Both sides of him are my favorite, because they are both part of him.

I lift one up to the light pouring in from my bedroom window. The parchment glows and his handwriting curls and twists. I miss him so much…

In the next couple days, life crawls. The only thing that changes for me is how cold the air feels when I step out, as well as the fact that I twisted my ankle on some ice while in town.

I can't stop thinking about Alexander. He has written in a while. I fear that something bad might have happened to him… I'll push that aside. Alexander is a fighter. He can take care of himself. I think these things as I wander down the block of stores in Albany. Then, a spark is igniting. I can go see him in Manhattan! I run back home, flinging the door open.

My mother is in the kitchen, adding some more wood to the fireplace. "Eliza! Is everything okay, dear?!"

"Mother, may I go to Manhattan this weekend?"

My mother rises, moving closer to me. "Why?..."

"I," I can't bring myself to say it, _especially_ to my mother. Embarrassment courses through me, my cheeks flushing. "I miss Alexander, mother."

Catherine Schuyler doesn't say anything back. She _laughs_ directly in my face. "You _miss_ him! Eliza, he isn't even yours yet!" The statement feels like a blow to the chest. My mother is right. Alexander doesn't bother to speak of marriage, less so when he even _can talk_ to me _._ I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself from screaming out.

"We are still courted, mother," I inhale deeply, trying to steady my speech. "He hasn't written, and I'm worried about him."

Catherine moves back to her fire. "He will write when he is ready. Men are simple creatures, Elizabeth. Now go on to the drawing room. I believe your sister could use some company."

 _My sister_. Peggy has not been at the house lately, and Angelica is, well, Angelica. "Which one, ma'am."

My mother shakes her head disappointedly. "The elder one."

I feel as though I may faint, but if I deny my mother I may be put down and never wake again. I walk into the drawing room, the old floorboards creaking and crackling under me.

"Angelica?"

"Hello, my dear sibling," Angelica is sitting on a sofa, gazing longingly at the leaves that covers the lawn, banister, and street. My sibling stares at the leaves, their colors. "How are you?"

I am scared to approach her, scared to reproach. I take a chance. "I'm okay, you?"

Angelica is not here. She is far, far away. Her voice is so disconnected from her body that I am sure that someone else occupies my sister. "I'm just fine, dear. Come sit."

I move beside my sister. I am in my signature blue, she in her peach; the skirts of our gowns morph together in one jumble of fabric. She pushes a piece of hair behind my ear, tracing my jawline with her finger. She is wistful; tired, fragile.

 _Not my Angelica_.

"Have you been conversing with your beau?"

She must not have heard our conversation in the kitchen. "No… I'm worried about him."

Angelica turns toward me more. "I wouldn't be. I'm sure he's fine. In fact, I invest much confidence in him. He is a fighter, Eliza."

I sigh, turning to face the window again. "You're right. I'm being foolish." As our conversation ends, I know now that my sister has become the leaves she is so fixated upon. She has fallen.

Suddenly, Peggy Schuyler comes rushing into the room. She is holding mail, and lots of it. She rushes over to me, dropping one in my lap. "Eliza! Your dear Hamilton calls!"

"Pardon?!" I can't process the words while ripping the envelope. There is a seal on the front, and the words spring at me.

Angelica reads over my shoulder. Words of passion and love. Words of stark, intense love; I can't bear the thought of being apart from him any longer.

I bring the letter close to my chest. I giggle wildly, kicking my feet back and forth.

Angelica turns to me, stark in her glance. "Be careful with that one, love," she whispers. "He will do what it takes to survive."


	2. Part 2: Angelica

_Angelica_

A freeze is settling upon the house as the sun creeps over the horizon. The gray sky threatens snow, even though it is only the fourth of December.

I rise, still in my night clothes. My bare feet feel the cold wood. I shudder, realizing my fire from last night is completely out.

I walk downstairs, my hand gripping the beam. I didn't sleep well last night. I haven't slept well in months.

I feel so cruel, lying to her like this.

Alexander and I have been writing each other for the past month and a half. He sends Eliza twenty letters at a time in bursts; in between bursts, he talks to me.

Alexander Hamilton is one of the most well-written men in the thirteen colonies. His talent surpasses, dare I say, George Washington himself.

He tells me of camp life, he tells me of adventures and campmates and war time food. He tells me everything under the sun. When he isn't talking about these things, he speaks of my angelic younger sister.

 _I am evil._

I know she's worried about him. I know she's worried about him, but I can't tell her that he is fine. That he has intentions that would cause her to faint upon hearing them.

I see my two siblings at the table, still in their

night clothes. They enjoy breakfast porridge and make quiet talk. Eliza doesn't talk much in the morning, I speak no words, but from the minute Peggy rises she is non-stop blabber.

She talks of new dresses and shoes this morning. Eliza nods in agreement, occasionally giving a word of approval. I am silent, as per usual.

"Good morning, Angelica!" Peggy squeezes my hand and I smile at her. Eliza beams at both of us. I stick my spoon into my younger sibling's porridge, taking a bit bite. The porridge is warm and tastes like home.

"Hey!" Peggy smacks my hand and the spoon clunks to the floor. I sigh, grabbing the spoon. I put it next to my empty plate, unable to keep my eyes open.

I get up from the table, realizing the uselessness of coming down here. I wander back upstairs to put on decent clothes.

I hear footsteps coming from my parents' room. I open my door. I see Philip and Catherine Schuyler descending the staircase, a look of excitement plastered on both of their faces.

I grab my peach gown from my closet and begin to put it on. I fix my hair by brushing it out and putting it into a half ponytail.

I meander upstairs for a few moments, digging under my fingernails out of nervousness. I want to tell Eliza that Alexander is coming home today, that my parents are going to-.

Eliza loves him.

He loves Eliza. She's all he ever talks about, when he's talking at all.

Eliza wants to marry him. He wants to-

The thought makes my entire body fill with anger. My heart freezes itself in my chest as i clutch the railing of the stairs

I take three deep breaths, trying to control my shame, disappointment, frustration and sadness. They build to a peak, slamming into me in waves. I let go.

I'm crying. I'm crying with endless terror, crying with endless shame.

I am in love with Alexander Hamilton


	3. Part 3: Eliza

_Eliza_

I am caught off-guard by the rough sounds of horses coming through the street. They neigh and sigh in the cold, making clouds around their large heads.

I hear a man laughing as a horse sighs again. Both of my parents, arm in arm, look towards our front door. I am visually confused. I make a list of people who could be calling so early, and none of them would have needed my parents' attention.

Catherine Schuyler looks to Peggy and I. "Girls? Go upstairs and get decent. We have male visitors."

"Yes mother," we say in unison. We rush upstairs, keeping ourselves covered in case our visitors are unfriendly British patrols. I hear the door open for a moment, but nothing else.

Angelica waits at the top of the stairs. Her eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks stained with lines. Something is wrong.

"Angelica? Are you alright?" God had blessed us with Margarita Schuyler, for I did not want to be the one to ask my sibling why she was crying. Angelica only turns away, heading back to her room.

Peggy enters her room and I go into mine. I grab my biggest blue dress, the one with a small belt and wings on the hips. I strap myself in and wait beside my door for the okay from my mother or father.

My younger sister does the same thing, except she stands with me. We take each other's hands, squeezing to relieve the stress.

I hear a male voice, laughing and bright. He says something, and so does my father.

"General Schuyler, I've come to…" the rest of his words are faded out, and I cannot hear the rest of his words.

The stairs creak as my magenta draped mother walks up. She looks at my sister and I, fear passing in her face. "Did you see who that was?"

"No, mother." She doesn't say anything back. Peggy shakes her head. She's disappointed; my sister is not one for an anti-climax. I stand at the top of the stairs, finally catching a glimpse of our visitor.

He is wearing patriot blue with sparkling black boots. Shiny, dark hair is pulled up into a ponytail. He could be any messenger…

However, I know when he finally turns to the stairs.

Big, tired brown eyes look me up and down. His smile lines so deep, stubble perfectly placed by God himself.

He smirks at me, his face full of love. I press my palms to my mouth to keep from screaming out. My Alexander…

What is he doing here? Why is he here! Oh God, is something wrong?!

I press a finger to my lips, telling him to keep quiet. He nods, agreeing to keep a secret. I smile as he shakes my father's hand. My father puts his other hand on his shoulder.

My father laughs, his jolly face turning a bit pink. "Colonel Hamilton! I see you've finally come to discuss things!"

"Yes, General Schuyler," Alexander graces a respectful nod. "I wanted to talk to you about Eliza."

"Of course you do! Let's continuing this discussion in the living room, my boy."

With that, they are out of earshot.


	4. Part 4: Alexander

_Alexander_

My heart is pounding a mile a minute. I can't calm down; I can't believe that today is the day.

Philip Schuyler's voice becomes stark as he speaks. "Tell me what you need, Alexander."

I can't be too forward, now. "General, I want to marry your daughter."

General Schuyler, as I expected, is taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"I am in love with your daughter, sir. She is the light of my life; she makes my day brighter whenever I am here for the holidays or reading her letters. I also have a wage that will support us both, as well as any children we may have down the line."

He still looks taken aback, but now his expression is leading into incredulous. "Sir, I am begging, pleading; let me marry your Elizabeth."

Schuyler looks me up and down, not saying anything for a few moments. "Alexander."

"Yes, sir?"

"At the fact that she is the light of your life, you happen to invade my daughter's conscious as well. She talks of you constantly; that you are a genius of grand proportions. She is happy when you are around, happy to receive your letters, joyous. I believe that you two are a fair match."

My heart has grown wings.

"However, the only thing I ask is that you support my daughter. What if the money runs out? Where will you be?"

I nod, agreeing only to get my Elizabeth. Underneath my lies, I think of kissing Eliza, having children, taking twenty steps forward-

"Alexander?"

"Yes, sir?"

General Schuyler puts his hand out. I grasp it. He shakes my hand in a firm grip. "Be true."

I bow to Schuyler, feeling my burdens take flight. I thank him a thousand times, maybe a million times as I bustle out of the door.

As I reach the door, a skirt of blue flies up the staircase.

 _O_ _h dear Lord..._


	5. Part 5: Eliza

_Eliza_

I can't breathe. My entire chest heaves with sobs of joy for Alexander, of gratefulness to my father.

I'm going to marry Alexander Hamilton.

Peggy must have heard me, as now she's rushing towards me, arms flinging around my bodice. "Eliza! What's wrong?!"

Tears begin to cloud my vision. Then, they roll down my cheeks. I cup my sister's cheek in my hand. "Oh, my dear Peggy; nothing in this world is wrong, and everything is right."

Peggy wipes a tear from my cheek, convinced I have lost my mind. "Then why are you crying!"

"Joy, sister," I take her hands in mine, pulling her close to me. We hug and my tears fall onto her shoulder. "Joy."

 ****

Angelica stays in her quarters as Peggy works downstairs. I sit in the drawing room, the realization crashing over me again and again. _I'm going to be his wife._

As I am in my fifth round, my mother approaches me. "Elizabeth! How are you, my dear?"

"I am quite well, mother. What do you need?"

My mother clasps her hands together, happiness spreading over her face. This is the first time I've seen it in a while. "Today we are holding a dinner. Just some close friends, is all."

My heart skips a beat. "Who else will be there, mother?"

"Well, we may or may not have a surprise for you at the end of the night." My mother's knowing gaze washes over me, and I know who she speaks of. Alexander.

"Is there anything you need done?"

My mother sits beside me, her magenta gown combining with my blue skirt the way Angelica's did a few days ago. "All you have to do is relax. Your siblings and I will care for you tonight, Elizabeth."

"What have you done with my mother?!" At that, my mother laughs. She pets my cheek and excuses herself. I stand up to grab something, anything. Like a phantom, Angelica appears behind me, her hands clasped together.

"Hello." Angelica is still a stone.

"Hello, Angelica." I go into the drawer of a table by me. This drawer is where I keep Alexander's most recent letters. I open the letter again, reading it and letting everything invade me.

My sister finally cracks. She approaches me, no longer a stone. She is back to herself. "I'm just saying, Elizabeth; if you really loved me you would share him."

"HA!" I laugh hysterically, unable to control myself. I wrap my arms around my older sister, whom I have missed for so long. Maybe her charm is returning. Maybe tonight she could let Alexander and I fade away…

"I am happy for you, Eliza." Angelica releases me, walking to the kitchen.

Tonight, my life begins.

 ****

 **A few family friends begin to come around four in the afternoon. All of them are dressed in patriot blue or plain cream gowns and coats. It seems a bit early for dinner, but I do not question my mother.**

I wring my hands, waiting for my Alexander to appear. He wouldn't show up late to the party! This is his element. Not even to mention the fact that if my father thought he was unsuited, he would revoke his blessing…

Angelica, Peggy and I stand together in the foyer. Age has begun to set on our faces; some lines appear near our noses and cheeks. Gray has begun to form under our eyes. Food has been a bit short as of late due to the war. We have been helping others for the past two years. But tonight, we celebrate.

I hear boots squeak behind us. I don't turn around until a hand is pressed to my back.

I whip around, thinking it is a stranger. To my delight, a pair of brown eyes gaze upon me.

I gasp, taking his arm to balance myself. We embrace, the burden of two years being thrown off of our backs. My sisters laugh to each other, the sound still like bells. It sounds similar to the day I met my betrothed when our laughter clung to the rafters and revolution was at our heels.

He wraps his arms around my waist and I giggle, pressing my hands to his cheeks. He hugs me as my own heart takes flight.

"Hello, Elizabeth," He cups my cheek in return, rubbing his thumb against my jaw. I lean into his hand, feeling safe and warm. "How are you feeling?"

"Quite swell, now that you are here." I take his hand and squeeze it. He then kisses my knuckle.

He acknowledges my sisters' presence. He takes Angelica's hand and kisses right in the middle of the back of her palm. He embraces Peggy, completing the picture.

"I think some ale is in order here," Alexander laughs to himself. He looks at Angelica up and down. He sighs as tension is released.

He lets go of my waist and goes to find the drinks. Angelica appears as though she has something she wanted to say. She leaves us, charging after Alexander.

I look at Peggy, but my younger sister only shrugs. Her yellow gown shakes in the drafts and her graceful movements as she goes back into the front room to enjoy the party.

I don't follow her.


	6. Part 6: Angelica

_Angelica_

His face is a blessing from God. Seeing him smiling fills me with joy. I am able to catch up with him as he approaches the dining table.

"Colonel Hamilton!" I call, and he turns. He grins at me.

"Angelica Schuyler," he mutters. "What a terrific surprise."

"I would hope so, Colonel." I bite the inside of my cheek. "Colonel, I-"

"I beg you, please call me Alexander," he takes a sip of ale. "We are going to be family, are we not?"

The thought creeps up on me, turning my joy to poisoned ink. I sigh. "You are correct, Alexander. I supposed we are."

"Now that we are on first name basis, my dear sister," Alexander takes another swig. "Is there something you needed from me?"

"Yes. I wanted to speak with you. Alone," I know the connotations of what I'm saying. I know what will happen if we are caught together.

"Oh, of course," Alexander puts his pint down. "Take me to our destination."

I take his hand and guide him to my father's side office. His main one is upstairs, but if anyone had seen us heading upstairs, we would have been in even more trouble than if we were just caught alone together.

Alexander and I stand in my father's office. The wood still smells the same as it did when I was a young girl. I sigh. Alexander and I are close now. He is smiling at me. I catch something in his eyes. Some fleeting notion.

"What did you need to say, Angelica?"

I feel as though I'm on another planet when he speaks. As if he is screaming across the galaxy and all I can hear is his echo.

"Alexander, I just…" I lose my words, my focus. His face moves from untouched to pitiful. He feels bad for me. But not in a taunting way. He knows I have a lot to say...

The letters. The dearests, the closeness. He has touched me like no other has without even raising a hand.But he makes Eliza entirely helpless. When she first saw him tonight, when she saw him at the ball, her eyes were filled to the brim with love. You will never find anyone as kind hearted and trusting as my sister.

I look Alexander Hamilton up and down again. My heart throbs, my head spins. All I have to do is tell him. If I told him that I love him, my sister would silently resign. He would become my husband. He would be mine.

 _No._

"I wanted to welcome you into the family," I begin to feel choked up, like my throat is closing. I take his hand. His palms are warm despite the drafts in the house and the freeze outside. "You are my brother now. Our relationship is in good standing. I also wanted to tell you… Eliza loves you."

Alexander is searching my face, and he could not make it more obvious. "What do you mean, Angelica?"

"My sister loves you, Alexander. You're all she ever talks about. She also knows what's going to happen tonight," Hamilton gasps in shock. "Yes, I know. I should have told you, or my mother, someone. I saw her on the stairs when you talked to my father. My sibling, my mother and I were terrible at keeping this all from her."

He only nods.

"I don't want you to have a single doubt about my sister. You own Elizabeth Schuyler's heart."

Alexander melts with my last words. He glances around the room, then leans in closer. My throat is still tightening, tightening, I can't breathe. He presses a hand to my shoulder. "And she owns mine."

I am touched by his sentiments, but I can't help but think how we would have fared if he was talking about me.

"Never forget it," I take a deep breath in, exiting the room. Alexander Hamilton stands in his soon-to-be father-in-law's office, slack jawed and alone.

I enjoy the rest of the party. Peggy and I dance to sweet flutists and a pianist. A few pairings dance together, cream gowns flying and twirling together, cream coats being put down at the table. Eliza talks with Alexander all night as he downs a couple of pints of ale. He must be able to keep his alcohol, as he stays classy and composed. Towards midnight, Alexander gathers the room to him.

"May I have everyone's attention!" he calls, his voice booming throughout the room. Everyone stops to stare at him and the middle Schuyler girl, who are still linked at the hip.

He turns to her, beaming. Elizabeth smiles back, unable to control herself.

I watch him take my sister's hands. I hear him say something, a long something, but the words don't make sense. The candles in the room create smoke that invades my lungs, that clouds my eyes. A tear falls down my cheek.

He's on his knee now.

 _I've lost him._


	7. Part 7: Alexander

_Alexander_

I asked her to marry me.

"Eliza, I don't have a dollar to my name," I tried to laugh this fact away, and she giggled a bit, too. "I have about an acre of land. I have a troop to command, a bit of fame. I have my honor, and a few college credits."

I had taken a deep breath. My nervousness had invaded me. "Your family brings out a different side of me, Betsey. Peggy confides in me, and Angelica might have tried to take a bite of me." I winked to Angelica, who was unmoving. Eliza turned for her sister, shock spreading over her face. Instead of letting her attack Angelica over a joke, I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to me. "No stress! My love for you is never in doubt. I'm thinking we could get property in Harlem? That's where we can figure it all out.

"My father left, my mother died. I grew up buckwild. But as long as I'm alive, Eliza, I swear to God you'll never feel helpless." This was when I dropped on my knee, her hands in mine.

"Elizabeth, my dear Betsey; will you be my wife?"

Eliza could not form the proper response; all she did was gasp harshly. Members of her family whooped and hollered without an ounce of class. She squeezed my hands, nodding a yes very dramatically. You could tell that she knew, anyone could tell. But her yes made my heart warm in ways I could never describe to you.

We embraced, her face burrowed into the crick of my neck. My arms wrapped around her waist tightly. I refused to let go for at least two full minutes. The thing is, she did not request for me to let go, either.

When she glanced back up at me, she presses a tiny kiss to my cheek. A wave of emotion crashed into me. I grabbed her cheeks in my hands and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

The crowd whooped and hollered some more. They threw neutral colored scarves at us. Eliza caught two while laughing hysterically. I caught none, as I was too captivated with her to care. Not only is the rest of my life secure, but I am able to spend it's remainder with my best friend.

Now, I look up into the crowd of people. Margarita is cheeking, clapping, her yellow gown only adding to her glow. Angelica stands beside her. Angelica's eyes are puffy, red, tired. The rest of her face seems pale, besides under her eyes; they are becoming a bit gray. Her hair is neatly pulled back into a half ponytail. A champagne flute is in her hand.

I squeeze Eliza's hand, but she doesn't feel a thing. Angelica and I keep eye contact. She raises the flute to her lips, smiling through her tears.

 _What have I done?_


	8. Part 8: Eliza

_Eliza_

It is December thirteenth, seventeen-eighty. A single day before I am married to my betrothed.

The last two weeks have been a mess. Wedding plans were much simpler than I thought they would be, as the only thing that is being changed is my gown, as well as the edition of a wedding bonnet. I am going to be married in the living room of my parents' house in Albany.

My mother, father, and sisters rush around, trying to make sure I don't get cold feet. Their attempts are useless, as my feet are made of lead. I could not be forced to marry Alexander, as I would have chosen him over anything, any day.

Angelica and Peggy stand in my room, preparing my dress. My wedding dress looks exactly like my other blue gowns, except it is made with a few more skirts to create a bigger fluff. Bigger wings are also added to my hips, accentuating my figure.

Angelica is happier, it seems like. She smiles over preparations. She appears less tired, however I do not know how she truly feels about it all. Peggy is as beautiful and bubbly as usually.

Peggy turns to me, taking my hand. "Tomorrow we get a brother!"

I laugh with my sisters of whom I completely adore. I am beyond happy, beyond ecstatic; I am touching oblivion.

The day leaves, the sun sets. The moon is now visible in the sky. As night buries itself in Albany, snow begins to fall on the ground.

I stand on the porch. Angelica appears beside me, taking my hand. I smile. I finally have my sister back.

After a few moments in the cold air, I go back upstairs. My dress hangs on my closet door. My bed welcomes me, even if it is too firm. I crash on the mattress without taking my corset off.

I am awakened by Peggy at dawn. Sunlight pours into my room. It is December fourteenth, seventeen-eighty. I marry Colonel Alexander Hamilton today.

Peggy yanks my dress off of the hanger, throwing it at me. I am not awake and haven't had a cup of coffee yet. I lay my wedding dress down on my bed as Peggy enters the room with a wash bin.

"Get cleaned up, my love!" she exits the room to grab water, I assume. She comes back in, dumping the steamy water into the steel basin. "Today's the day!"

 _Today is the day._

I let my younger sister pamper me all morning. It's only that in the afternoon I realize my maid of honor is out of sight. She must have some preparing to do as well. I asked her to speak at dinner.

At around noon, I hear the footsteps of boots. Then, I hear his voice. He is talking to someone in the room next door to us. Peggy and I gasp, imagining what would happen if he walked in on us.

"We would be disowned for sure," Peggy continues to run her tiny hands through my wet, clean hair.

"For sure, my dear sister!" We laugh until our bellies hurt. In a few moments, the boots descend the stairs.

I am strapped into my gown, my corset rung up with two extra strings. I can barely breathe because of it, but knowing me, I cannot breathe due to other reasons.

Peggy and I stand in front of my mirror. She pinches my cheeks, making them rosy. I smile in the mirror, my eyes containing a certain glow. Peggy squeezes my shoulders as a floorboard creaks.

Angelica and my mother stand together in the doorway. My mother holds a bouquet, and my sister holds a wedding bonnet.

My mother stays in the door frame, but Angelica moves forward. She attaches the wedding bonnet to my hair, pulling the veil to my hips, laying it on my back.

Angelica, Peggy and I stare at ourselves in the mirror. I have just turned twenty-four, my Peggy is twenty-three, and Angelica is twenty-five. We all have a glow now, one that my younger sibling possessed before us. The dark circles under our eyes do not compare to the warmth of our sisterhood, our friendship, and the selflessness we have developed. Today, they know that we are being given our good karma as thanks for our sacrifices. Even so, we know that after our honeymoon Alexander will be shipped back out, away from Manhattan, away from Albany, away from me; my anxieties will return, my panic will ensue. They know. Yet they kiss my cheeks and tell me how beautiful I am, how beautiful I look.

I face my mother. Her age is catching up with her, yet her beauty shines through the crow's feet and smile lines. I walk towards her. She hands me my bouquet, but I am not worried about my flowers. I take her hands in mine. Then, I hug her. I hug her harder than I have in the past twenty years.

She laughs, pulling her middle daughter closer. In most families, I would become a Hamilton today. Fortunately, we are not most families, and Alexander Hamilton is not most men.

I hold the bouquet, glancing at the flowers. It appears to be white roses, bundled up with some other ferns. White roses are impossible to find this time of year.

My mother offers me her arm, and I take it. We leave the room, walking slowly down the steps. I don't think Alexander is upstairs anymore; in fact, it would be safe to assume that he is standing in the living room, hands together, waiting to be married to me.

I get to the bottom of the staircase. My father greets the four of us with a smile. He kisses my forehead through the part of the bonnet covering my face. I embrace my father as he takes my other arm.

I hear the rustling of cloth. Family, friends, and men of power that my father knows all stand, their cream or patriot blue outfits make the room feel homey. I look up, and there is Alexander.

He is smiling wide. His group of friends (that I met at the ball, apparently) stand beside him, happiness radiating from them.

The walk toward him is slow, almost painful. When I am finally delivered, a feeling of relief washes over me.

My mother bows her head to Alexander, and Alexander bows back. My father shakes his hand. Then, he brings our hands together. I look up at my betrothed, pulling him closer to me with my one hand.

Angelica takes my bouquet, leaving my other hand free. I take his left hand in my own, rubbing my thumb against the back of his palm. He pours himself into me, making me feel more loved than I ever have.

I look out of the window in front of me. Leftover snowflakes begin to fall on the ground.

I have one word on my mind.

 _Helpless._


	9. Part 9: Alexander

_Alexander_

I married her as the snow fell on the ground. She was dressed in a blue gown. She had a wedding bonnet on, which covered the majority of her face.

I couldn't have cared less. She still looked beautiful to me, despite the coverings and the modesty and tradition itself.

Catherine and Philip Schuyler sat together proudly, holding each other's hands. I had reason to believe they are living vicariously through Eliza, but who am I to judge? I was able to choose my wife, someone who makes my heart ache whenever I go a moment without her.

Eliza placed her hands in mine. They were warm despite the frigid air outside. I smiled at her warmly. Her gaze reached me, just as warm and welcoming.

The procession was basic and fulfilling. I swore my life to her, and she swore hers to me. Yet, my favorite part of this entire process was putting the wedding band on her finger.

Eliza's hands are small, dainty. I chose an infinity band; it is two bands hooked together, and when you swivel them they create an infinity sign. On the inside of the bands, it reads, "Alexander Elizabeth, 1780."

As I finished putting the ring on her finger, she took my hand and did the same for me. She squeezed my hand so hard that the skin around her fingers turned white, as did her knuckles.

I lift up her veil, and brought my hands to her cheeks for a quick moment.

Philip Schuyler stood up to sign our marriage certificate as a witness. Peggy signed it as well. When I looked over my shoulder, Angelica stood completely frozen, her eyes glazed over. In my mind, she looked similar to her sister on the day we met. Horrified.

I didn't say anything to Eliza at the time. I didn't say anything to her during the ball, either. I still haven't said anything to her yet.

I knew why I didn't say anything. I hope Angelica knows why, too.

Now, I sit at my desk, moving my wedding band between my two fingers. All I can think about is the way Angelica stood in front of everyone, her champagne flute raised in the air. She wished for us to always be satisfied, for the revolution to prosper. Then, she sat besides Peggy and whispered something. " _Eliza's his wife._ " Even now, I can't think of anything else. Why would she say that? What was the meaning behind it? I don't know, and I do not believe I ever will.

Eliza lays in our wedding bed behind me, making tiny snoring noises. I only think about the fact that she will not be quick to rise after tonight. I keep moving the ring between my fingers. Despite my anxieties, the motion is soothing.

It must be about four in the morning when I lay beside my wife. I wrap an arm around her, kissing behind her ear. To my surprise, I am out like a light.

I dream not of my wife, but of the youngest Schuyler sister. Her yellow gown swishes as if there is a heavy wind in the parlor of the Schuyler home. Harsh, bright, heavenly lights fill the room and bounce off of the bookcases that line the walls. No couches, no endtables, no harpsichord that Eliza plays, no furniture at all. The room is coated in a white haze, telling me that I am alone, that this dream will not end until I wake up.

Peggy Schuyler takes my hand, her chocolate eyes glowing. She grins at me. "Welcome, Alexander. You are now one of us."

I laugh a bit, unable to keep my tongue under control. "I will never be one of you. You know that."

Peggy stands, bringing me with her. She grabs me across the room to the door in the back. "Soon. Soon. Soon," she mutters the word over and over again. She flings the door open, and a void is open to me. I lean forward only a little bit. I can't see anything; the darkness is overwhelming.

I last thing I feel is Peggy's hand pressed on my back. The next thing I know, I'm falling.


End file.
